Some folks may be offended by this one. Some people may find it rude. There is profanity in it. I don't really care right now. I would suggest you stop reading now.
A few days ago on Facebook, I updated my status to "Dear Cancer: F*** you. Sincerely, Me." That wasn't right. I really meant "Dear Cancer: FUCK YOU. You are a mother fucking, son-of-a-bitch, fargin icehole (from Johnny Dangerously). You should be annihilated. You serve no useful purpose. You are a piece of crap. Sorry, crap. That is offensive to you. Sincerely, Most of society."
I started this just after getting back from what turned out to be my last visit with my mom. She closed her eyes after we left and didn't come back. Sure, she lived a few more weeks, but she didn't live. After all, just breathing isn't life. There has to be some quality to it.
Its interesting how this has affected me over the last 5 months. This was started five months ago today. It is ending now. Those 5 months have taught me so much, about me, my family, my friends. Things that I guess we all have to learn. I am just not sure I wanted to learn them before I hit 40.
My mom always told me that she would want someone to "pull the plug" on her. I always told her I couldn't do it. WRONG! When I saw her there and I knew she was in pain, suffering, I could have done it. I know now. I didn't know at 20, 25, 30, or even 35. Its impossible to know. But when you watch a loved one lying there and you realize she isn't the same person she was, you understand how people do it.
I also came to realize that there is value in physician assisted suicide. You don't have to like it. You don't have to agree with it. But when a sane, rational person knows there is an end, and its coming soon, that person should be able to go out on his or her own terms. I am sure my mom didn't want her last weeks to be the way the were, lying in hospice, unable to care for herself, unable to do the basic functions. If she had a choice, she would have gone another way. I think we all would. And why shouldn't we give people that option? I can't come up with a good reason.
I also realize we make decisions in haste in this life. Someone upsets us and we change things. Maybe we disown someone or we say something to someone we regret. Telling your brother that you are upset with your kid, especially an adult kid, is unproductive. Sorry, but what happens between a parent and adult child should be between the parent and adult child. So if I pissed off my mom, I am sorry. But that was our business. And no one else should be involved. That means you don't tell me I shouldn't be there for her funeral.
When we know its the last time we are going to see someone, we say things that need to be said - or needed to be said. Its those last moments when we are fortunate enough to say "I love you" to someone. That fixes everything. Those three words can't always fix problems, but when a loved one is dying, those three words can erase a decade of pain. My mom wasn't perfect, but neither was I. We fought. We saw things differently. She tried to protect me when I was younger. I tried to protect her when she got older. She didn't like it, but that was my decision to make and I wouldn't change it. It caused friction, but at the end of the day, when she called, I went. And when I had to leave, I said I love you. No one else was there to hear it, to see it, or to understand it. But when you have told people all of the issues, it makes it difficult, no impossible, for others to understand that dynamic and forgiveness.
It has been a challenge. Some days are good. Some days are harder. I wasn't overly close to my mom, especially the last 8 years or so. But I don't know that I needed to be. She understood the sacrifices that my dad made for us. I didn't make the same sacrifices, but sacrifices had to be made. And she got that. She may not have liked it, but she got it. I am sure of that. I just wish she could have told me. Because now I can't have that discussion with her - or my dad. Its odd. I don't have a parent to call, to talk to. It feels funny.
I know some good has come from it. I put together a fundraiser for her. We raised awareness of breast cancer, raised money, and did good for the community. She would be proud of that. But I also know that some "friends" haven't come through the way I would have expected them to. No calls, no emails. No offers of help or even a nice word. On the other hand, complete strangers have come out and helped, have gotten involved and, dare I say, become friends.
Its odd how death affects us. I am still pissed at cancer. I can't think of too many things crappier. Parkinsons, autism, cancer. That is my top three crappy things that suck. Absolutely no good comes from any of them.
So there it is. 5 months after I started with "Dear Cancer: Fuck you" I am still there. Cancer can still go kiss my ass. But I have also learned from this - death should be on our terms, even though it is often not. Parents and children have a special relationship and no one can understand that relationship, including siblings. Forgiveness should be given out more readily. And I am going to try to be a better person.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tucker Carlson is a Douche
Dude doesn't even qualify to be a douchebag. That would be too good for him because then he would be useful. Wait, even a douche can be useful. After all, we all remember the Summer's Eve commercials from the late 80s and early 90s. Two women walking on a beach and one looks at the other and says "Mom, can I ask you a personal question? Do you douche?" So what is more useless than a douche? Oh, I know, an idiotic television personality who thinks he is smart or funny or something.
For those of you who missed it, and judging by the ratings that would be most of America, Tucker Carlson says Michael Vick should have been executed for his dogfighting. And in case you have been living in a hole for the last 4 years, or you get your news from Fox News, Michael Vick is a football player who ran a dogfighting ring.
Let me preface this with the fact that I am a dog lover. I always had dogs growing up. I still have dogs. My first dog was Marshmallow, a white Great Pyrennes. Dogs are cool. I also think dogfighting is a heinous crime and one that should be punished. Dogs are, for the most part, defenseless from what we want to do to them. So if some jackass wants to put his dog in a ring with another dog that is going to attack it, the dog can't really say no or call CPS. And if said jackass wants to kill his own dog because the dog isn't a good enough fighter, as Vick did, then the dog doesn't have much of a chance. So, yeah, dogfighting sucks and it is for jackasses.
Vick has no excuse. He saw his first dog fight at 7. Sorry. That must have been a crappy childhood. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up and see dogs fighting and killing each other. Then you have to watch humans bet on this and get enjoyment out of it. Kids growing up watching this must have rough childhoods. I get that. But that is no excuse for doing it as a grown man.
Especially a multi-millionaire who can surround himself with lawyers, agents, PR folks (I recommend Phil Reese at www.prprnewyork.com), and any number of professionals who would tell him that dog fighting is dumb and should be avoided. I know your "boys" are into it and want you to finance it. They probably want you to finance their pimping and pandering and their dealing in the drug trade. Heck, they may want you to finance their purchase of blood diamonds. But you gotta say no.
So on to this Tucker Carlson douche. First, any guy who has as first name that is also a last name can't be trusted. Just go with it. Tucker is a garment maker. I guess this Tucker makes garments of crap. Or maybe his garments are crap. This guy said that Michael Vick is some creepy rich football player who should be executed for dogfighting.
Apparently, Tucker Carlson is perfect. He must live in a glass house. I wonder what is is like to be perfect. Apparently, if you go to some swanky boarding school in New Hampshire and are an heir to some fortune, you are perfect. Oh well, except for that rape accusation made against you that you say is false and that time you talked about the allegedly gay man who you beat up after you claim he touched your junk. I guess when you beat people up and are accused of rape you are perfect.
For the rest of us, we make mistakes. Who among us has not screwed up? I know I have plenty of times. Yet, somehow my friends (my actual friends and not those people who say they are friends but never come around unless they need something) and family forgive me. No one has wanted to see me killed over my mistakes, thank goodness. Heck, we all screw up. Not one among us is perfect. If you think you are perfect, you should take a look in the mirror, unless you are like Casper and don't have a reflection.
Look, I hate what Vick did. But he paid his price. The court sentenced him. He completed that sentence and from everything I read, he was a model citizen while incarcerated. He knows what he did is wrong. He has to live with that every day. He goes and talks to kids about what he did. He can't own a dog and has to explain to his kids why they can't have a dog.
When you screw up, you know you screwed up and you have to deal with it every day. The bigger this mistake, the more you have to deal with it. But the great thing about our country and about the people in our country is that we believe in second chances. You have to do your time. You have to admit you were wrong. And it sucks admitting when you made a mistake. It especially sucks when you have to admit it to those closest to you - like your wife. It sucks when you know you can't blame other people. But you man up, admit your mistake and take your punishment. And when it is done, you get a second chance. That is how it works.
Vick screwed up more than most of us ever will. And he paid his price. He went to prison. He had to file for bankruptcy. He has lost the respect of a lot of people. And every day he looks in the mirror and realizes he screwed up. And he realizes he is lucky that he has a second chance to make a living playing a game.
Tucker Carlson has no place telling anyone that Vick should have been executed. Maybe Tucker (anyone else notice that it rhymes with *ucker) should have had the crap kicked out of him when he beat up that guy in the 80s. Maybe Tucker should be taken out back and flogged for being a host on Fox with no actual credentials. Maybe he should be tied to a post for making such an idiotic statement.
I get it. He is paid to have an opinion. And the more outrageous his opinion, the more people talk about him. And the more they talk about him, the more money he can make. But at some point, you just have to realize that you sound like a complete fool. You sound like you don't understand our system of justice and you don't understand our country. Tucker should go back to his rich private schools and his completely out of touch society and stay away from the rest of America. He has no clue about how real people deal with real problems and while Vick isn't like most of us, we can relate much better to a guy who had a rough upbringing, made it big, lost it bigger, and is now making a comeback. I don't know anyone who can relate to a snotty, boarding school educated punk who has never had a real job in his day or done anything that is productive for the rest of society.
Give Vick a 2nd chance. Give Tucker a timeout - a permanent timeout from television and spouting his nonsense filled hatred.
For those of you who missed it, and judging by the ratings that would be most of America, Tucker Carlson says Michael Vick should have been executed for his dogfighting. And in case you have been living in a hole for the last 4 years, or you get your news from Fox News, Michael Vick is a football player who ran a dogfighting ring.
Let me preface this with the fact that I am a dog lover. I always had dogs growing up. I still have dogs. My first dog was Marshmallow, a white Great Pyrennes. Dogs are cool. I also think dogfighting is a heinous crime and one that should be punished. Dogs are, for the most part, defenseless from what we want to do to them. So if some jackass wants to put his dog in a ring with another dog that is going to attack it, the dog can't really say no or call CPS. And if said jackass wants to kill his own dog because the dog isn't a good enough fighter, as Vick did, then the dog doesn't have much of a chance. So, yeah, dogfighting sucks and it is for jackasses.
Vick has no excuse. He saw his first dog fight at 7. Sorry. That must have been a crappy childhood. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up and see dogs fighting and killing each other. Then you have to watch humans bet on this and get enjoyment out of it. Kids growing up watching this must have rough childhoods. I get that. But that is no excuse for doing it as a grown man.
Especially a multi-millionaire who can surround himself with lawyers, agents, PR folks (I recommend Phil Reese at www.prprnewyork.com), and any number of professionals who would tell him that dog fighting is dumb and should be avoided. I know your "boys" are into it and want you to finance it. They probably want you to finance their pimping and pandering and their dealing in the drug trade. Heck, they may want you to finance their purchase of blood diamonds. But you gotta say no.
So on to this Tucker Carlson douche. First, any guy who has as first name that is also a last name can't be trusted. Just go with it. Tucker is a garment maker. I guess this Tucker makes garments of crap. Or maybe his garments are crap. This guy said that Michael Vick is some creepy rich football player who should be executed for dogfighting.
Apparently, Tucker Carlson is perfect. He must live in a glass house. I wonder what is is like to be perfect. Apparently, if you go to some swanky boarding school in New Hampshire and are an heir to some fortune, you are perfect. Oh well, except for that rape accusation made against you that you say is false and that time you talked about the allegedly gay man who you beat up after you claim he touched your junk. I guess when you beat people up and are accused of rape you are perfect.
For the rest of us, we make mistakes. Who among us has not screwed up? I know I have plenty of times. Yet, somehow my friends (my actual friends and not those people who say they are friends but never come around unless they need something) and family forgive me. No one has wanted to see me killed over my mistakes, thank goodness. Heck, we all screw up. Not one among us is perfect. If you think you are perfect, you should take a look in the mirror, unless you are like Casper and don't have a reflection.
Look, I hate what Vick did. But he paid his price. The court sentenced him. He completed that sentence and from everything I read, he was a model citizen while incarcerated. He knows what he did is wrong. He has to live with that every day. He goes and talks to kids about what he did. He can't own a dog and has to explain to his kids why they can't have a dog.
When you screw up, you know you screwed up and you have to deal with it every day. The bigger this mistake, the more you have to deal with it. But the great thing about our country and about the people in our country is that we believe in second chances. You have to do your time. You have to admit you were wrong. And it sucks admitting when you made a mistake. It especially sucks when you have to admit it to those closest to you - like your wife. It sucks when you know you can't blame other people. But you man up, admit your mistake and take your punishment. And when it is done, you get a second chance. That is how it works.
Vick screwed up more than most of us ever will. And he paid his price. He went to prison. He had to file for bankruptcy. He has lost the respect of a lot of people. And every day he looks in the mirror and realizes he screwed up. And he realizes he is lucky that he has a second chance to make a living playing a game.
Tucker Carlson has no place telling anyone that Vick should have been executed. Maybe Tucker (anyone else notice that it rhymes with *ucker) should have had the crap kicked out of him when he beat up that guy in the 80s. Maybe Tucker should be taken out back and flogged for being a host on Fox with no actual credentials. Maybe he should be tied to a post for making such an idiotic statement.
I get it. He is paid to have an opinion. And the more outrageous his opinion, the more people talk about him. And the more they talk about him, the more money he can make. But at some point, you just have to realize that you sound like a complete fool. You sound like you don't understand our system of justice and you don't understand our country. Tucker should go back to his rich private schools and his completely out of touch society and stay away from the rest of America. He has no clue about how real people deal with real problems and while Vick isn't like most of us, we can relate much better to a guy who had a rough upbringing, made it big, lost it bigger, and is now making a comeback. I don't know anyone who can relate to a snotty, boarding school educated punk who has never had a real job in his day or done anything that is productive for the rest of society.
Give Vick a 2nd chance. Give Tucker a timeout - a permanent timeout from television and spouting his nonsense filled hatred.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
People can be good
I know my last post was about how people suck. I have been thinking about that. And I was all set to write about more dumb things people do. But I decided too much negativity is a bad thing. So while I will still rant, I am going to try to put a more positive spin on it. This post is in that light. I encourage everyone to read it carefully.
Okay, I admit it. I have been a hypocrite. I know. So today I decided to do something about it. What better day to do it than my youngest son's 7th birthday? It also doubles as the 7 year anniversary of my law firm. So, it seemed fitting. Start the new year, at least the business new year, on a new note.
For years, a friend of mine has posted about "The Untied Way." (No, its not the United Way. It is the untied way - I do know how to spell - usually.) I have read the emails and thought "Huh, that is so nice." But I haven't done anything about it. Heck, I have even forwarded the email to other people. But, I never followed up on it myself.
So, today I am sitting at Starbucks with my son. We are enjoying a muffin and coffee. Well, I am enjoying the coffee. He is enjoying the muffin and an Odwalla. He says he wants to do something for other people. He wants to buy a whole bunch of coffees and pass them out to the homeless people. Great idea, but I can't take 20 coffees in my car. So, what to do? Then it hit me - the Untied Way.
Look, it has been a hard year. I have f-d up more than I care to admit to. I have been a crappy father at time. I have been a crappy husband. I have been a crappy friend. I know it. I have screwed up more in the last 6 months than in the last 6 years. Heck, I have screwed up more in the last 6 months than I did in middle school and high school combined and I was the kid whose parents were told I needed to find a new school for 8th grade since they weren't letting me back to the public school. (You can find the school in one of my Facebook groups. Its funny.)
And so I have done some soul searching. I have tried to figure out what has gone wrong. I still don't know. But I am working on it. (And no, I am not blaming anyone but me. I may be pissed at people and may want to go kick the living crap out of people, but I have to take responsibility for decisions I made.) And I realized today, sitting with my son, there but for the grace of God, go I. I am fortunate that my screw up is something I can deal with. I can take steps to repair what I did, even if it can never be fixed. I can do the right thing even when I haven't always done the right thing. And the right thing starts with setting a good example.
My dad set a good example for me. His dad did before him. My mom's dad set a good example. And we have all gone through tough times. They all had rough patches in life and problems to deal with. My grandfathers had the Great Depression. My dad's dad sold toilet supplies and in WWII worked on building the bomb. I don't mean sitting in a lab, I mean actually building it. My dad had to deal with, among other things, me. I was not an easy child. (The best story being the counselor in 10th grade who told my parents that I was an underachiever because I didn't know what I wanted to do in life. My dad told the psychologist he was full of it because he didn't know what he wanted to do in life until he was in his mid-20s. Want proof? The guy had a Ph.D in pharmaceutical chemistry, yeah that, and ended up in business development.) Yet, somehow, they managed to set good examples, although I now know they weren't perfect. And they always managed to show that they cared about other people. I don't recall seeing any of them making donations and I don't recall any of them talking about it. But after my dad passed away, looking through his things, I knew he had always been giving.
So, I have a chance with Miles to set a good example. He wants to do the coffee, but it just isn't going to happen. So I loaded the kids into the car and drove to my local ATM. I took out enough money that I thought about it. And I drove over near the local homeless shelter. I drove down an alley and saw a guy there. I handed him a bill. He looked at me, first like I was crazy, and then said thank you. I wished him a Merry Christmas and drove a bit farther. Again, I handed the guy a bill and wished him a Merry Christmas. Well, word spreads quickly when you are in that part of town and giving out money. There were even kids who came up to me. In just minutes, it was gone. I had people coming up to me and asking even after I ran out.
When we were done, Miles asked me if he could open a lemonade stand in the summer and give the money he makes to the homeless folks. I told him we could do that. It made him smile.
I don't know what these folks are going to do with the money. Some might buy a cup of coffee. Some might buy crack. Some might buy a raincoat. I don't know. And, I don't care. It isn't a lot. But it means a lot to them.
The point is not to judge what they are doing with the money. The point is to show them that someone cares. The point is to remind myself that, but for some different decisions in life, it could be me with the bags of clothes walking the street. It could be someone I know, someone I care about. It was a reminder that I have been lucky in life. And when you are lucky, you need to not screw that up. We don't have to be perfect, but we have to understand that there isn't a big gap between what we have (and, look, if you are reading this, you have - and while it may not be what you want, you still have more than the folks who I saw today who had everything they owned in a bag with them) and the folks who do not have.
Everyone screws up. Some of us are lucky enough not to screw up too much. Some of us aren't as lucky and screw up big time. When we do, we need to take responsibility for our actions and remember how lucky we are. Today, this served as a reminder to me. And it gave me a chance to show my son how we can give to those who are less fortunate.
I would encourage everyone to read The Untied Way. It has given me some perspective this year. It has reminded me that I am one of the lucky ones. It has also reminded me that I need to ask forgiveness from those I have hurt and be thankful for what I have. While it is here today, it may not be tomorrow.
Okay, I admit it. I have been a hypocrite. I know. So today I decided to do something about it. What better day to do it than my youngest son's 7th birthday? It also doubles as the 7 year anniversary of my law firm. So, it seemed fitting. Start the new year, at least the business new year, on a new note.
For years, a friend of mine has posted about "The Untied Way." (No, its not the United Way. It is the untied way - I do know how to spell - usually.) I have read the emails and thought "Huh, that is so nice." But I haven't done anything about it. Heck, I have even forwarded the email to other people. But, I never followed up on it myself.
So, today I am sitting at Starbucks with my son. We are enjoying a muffin and coffee. Well, I am enjoying the coffee. He is enjoying the muffin and an Odwalla. He says he wants to do something for other people. He wants to buy a whole bunch of coffees and pass them out to the homeless people. Great idea, but I can't take 20 coffees in my car. So, what to do? Then it hit me - the Untied Way.
Look, it has been a hard year. I have f-d up more than I care to admit to. I have been a crappy father at time. I have been a crappy husband. I have been a crappy friend. I know it. I have screwed up more in the last 6 months than in the last 6 years. Heck, I have screwed up more in the last 6 months than I did in middle school and high school combined and I was the kid whose parents were told I needed to find a new school for 8th grade since they weren't letting me back to the public school. (You can find the school in one of my Facebook groups. Its funny.)
And so I have done some soul searching. I have tried to figure out what has gone wrong. I still don't know. But I am working on it. (And no, I am not blaming anyone but me. I may be pissed at people and may want to go kick the living crap out of people, but I have to take responsibility for decisions I made.) And I realized today, sitting with my son, there but for the grace of God, go I. I am fortunate that my screw up is something I can deal with. I can take steps to repair what I did, even if it can never be fixed. I can do the right thing even when I haven't always done the right thing. And the right thing starts with setting a good example.
My dad set a good example for me. His dad did before him. My mom's dad set a good example. And we have all gone through tough times. They all had rough patches in life and problems to deal with. My grandfathers had the Great Depression. My dad's dad sold toilet supplies and in WWII worked on building the bomb. I don't mean sitting in a lab, I mean actually building it. My dad had to deal with, among other things, me. I was not an easy child. (The best story being the counselor in 10th grade who told my parents that I was an underachiever because I didn't know what I wanted to do in life. My dad told the psychologist he was full of it because he didn't know what he wanted to do in life until he was in his mid-20s. Want proof? The guy had a Ph.D in pharmaceutical chemistry, yeah that, and ended up in business development.) Yet, somehow, they managed to set good examples, although I now know they weren't perfect. And they always managed to show that they cared about other people. I don't recall seeing any of them making donations and I don't recall any of them talking about it. But after my dad passed away, looking through his things, I knew he had always been giving.
So, I have a chance with Miles to set a good example. He wants to do the coffee, but it just isn't going to happen. So I loaded the kids into the car and drove to my local ATM. I took out enough money that I thought about it. And I drove over near the local homeless shelter. I drove down an alley and saw a guy there. I handed him a bill. He looked at me, first like I was crazy, and then said thank you. I wished him a Merry Christmas and drove a bit farther. Again, I handed the guy a bill and wished him a Merry Christmas. Well, word spreads quickly when you are in that part of town and giving out money. There were even kids who came up to me. In just minutes, it was gone. I had people coming up to me and asking even after I ran out.
When we were done, Miles asked me if he could open a lemonade stand in the summer and give the money he makes to the homeless folks. I told him we could do that. It made him smile.
I don't know what these folks are going to do with the money. Some might buy a cup of coffee. Some might buy crack. Some might buy a raincoat. I don't know. And, I don't care. It isn't a lot. But it means a lot to them.
The point is not to judge what they are doing with the money. The point is to show them that someone cares. The point is to remind myself that, but for some different decisions in life, it could be me with the bags of clothes walking the street. It could be someone I know, someone I care about. It was a reminder that I have been lucky in life. And when you are lucky, you need to not screw that up. We don't have to be perfect, but we have to understand that there isn't a big gap between what we have (and, look, if you are reading this, you have - and while it may not be what you want, you still have more than the folks who I saw today who had everything they owned in a bag with them) and the folks who do not have.
Everyone screws up. Some of us are lucky enough not to screw up too much. Some of us aren't as lucky and screw up big time. When we do, we need to take responsibility for our actions and remember how lucky we are. Today, this served as a reminder to me. And it gave me a chance to show my son how we can give to those who are less fortunate.
I would encourage everyone to read The Untied Way. It has given me some perspective this year. It has reminded me that I am one of the lucky ones. It has also reminded me that I need to ask forgiveness from those I have hurt and be thankful for what I have. While it is here today, it may not be tomorrow.
Friday, December 10, 2010
People Suck
Its been a while since I blogged. Probably too long. Or for those of you who have read this before, maybe you want a longer wait. (Warning: Not everything that is here is kid friendly so don't read this with your 8 year old around. As Charles Barkley said, I am not a role model.)
WTF is up with people? I seriously want to go kick someone's ass. Not "ha ha that was a funny high school girl fight." I mean actually kick someone's ass. And the ass of said person is large enough that I would try to kick it out the other side. I mean, douchebag's like this don't have male genitalia so its not like I would ruin something. But, before I get there, a few other things that bother me.
If you own a car, and you have a freaking driver's license, why don't you learn how to drive? Sure, we all get in accidents. I understand. In fact, it is what helps me pay the bills. So, I am not anti-accident. Except when it comes to me.
I am driving tonight and there is an accident in the lane I am in. The cars are stopped. Everyone sees this. Everyone in the other lane lets cars in. I am the next car in my lane. My turn signal has been on for some time. I am in a big Expedition with my lights on. The only person who couldn't see me should have been the blind guy walking down the sidewalk. No, really, there was a blind guy walking down the sidewalk. But the dweeb in the car in the right lane continues to come fast and honks at me. Fine, I dont want to crash my car into his POS car. (Go find the prior post with the link to Adam Sandler. I am not in the mood to find it again.) Then this old lady comes driving down the road and does the same thing. Finally, the nice guy behind lets me in.
I drive up to the old woman. I honk at her and she puts her hands up like she doesn't know what I am talking about. Really, lady? You didnt see me get behind you after you refused to freaking let me in? Do I have "IDIOT" written across my forehead? You know you were a bitch and I know you were a bitch. In a civilized society, you would apologize for being a bitch. I would smile and wave and still think you are a bitch, but at least a bitch who apologized. You would go from a zero in my book to like a 4. An apology means a lot.
I had every intention of going up to the guy in the car. But, that dumbass ran the red light at the next intersection. Look, buddy, I know you clearly have vision problems since you couldn't see my car. I know you clearly don't care about your POS car because the guys in that gum commercial (Big Red, maybe) could pick up your car and move it and you clearly didn't care if I ran it over. I know you don't care about what happens to you since you were fine with letting me smush you like a monster truck runs over one of those flattened junkers. But, running a red light? Really? You think that is a good idea? How about the innocent folks who you could have injured or killed because you are in a rush to get to your Losers Anonymous class? Or maybe you were on your way to "I have a bad hair piece and women won't talk to me" club? I don't know and I don't care. I just know that you are a hazard and should never be on the road.
Then there are people who just don't get it. Look, if you don't like how I am doing something, tell me. Its not that hard. Dont pretend its not a problem and then drop it on me at the last minute. I know I am not perfect. These days I am pretty fucking far from perfect. I saw perfect once from two light years away. That is the closest I have gotten. And last month, it moved to four light years away. And there was a black hole between me and perfect. But, give me a break. A little warning before you drop a bomb on someone, especially a friend, would be nice. Is that really asking for too much?
But beyond those groups of people (oh and dude who cannot drive, you better stay off the roads near my house because I am pretty sure one day I will see your picture in the paper with your car in a house and I do not mean the garage), there are bigger a-holes. These are the greedy son-of-a-bitch bleep-sucking m-f'ing bastards whose ass I would like to kick. No, wait, whose asses I would like to kick. Multiple folks in this group. I can think of at least 6.
Look, if you are greedy and want to scam folks, fine. Move to your own private island and scam yourselves. After all, its the only action you will be getting. But don't scam me. And really dont scam innocent folks. Sure, I know con men go back a long way. I like reading books about them. But don't do it. Go try to hustle at pool or basketball. Oh wait, you dumbasses are too old and too pathetic to be able to play a real sport like that. You just think you can go ahead and rip people off. Sure, maybe you got away with it for a while. But you always get caught. Always. And the punishment is always bad.
A word to the wise: if you are in a group of people and you cannot figure out who the mark is in a group, it is probably you. And yes, this applies to me as well. I should have bleeping remembered it. Sometimes we get too cocky and too caught up to realize we are the mark. And it sucks when you finally figure it out, especially when you get stuck with consequences because of it. It fucking sucks and it pisses me off. We have to take responsibility for our actions, but when you have been lied to and played, it doesn't make you feel any better taking responsibility. It does create a strong desire to go pummel someone. No, not just anyone. Thankfully, I would never actually do it because one of my four or five friends (that is total) would talk me out of it.
I know I ain't that smart. Of course, I was recently told I am not as smart as I think I am. Since I currently think of myself as having an IQ of about 70, I think that is impossible. Sure, I can put together words and talk off the cuff. But don't get the ability to talk confused with being smart. I have seen a lot of smart people who can't put together a sentence. And I know a lot of dumb asses who talk so much you would think they were getting paid by the letter. But even when you aren't that smart, it is no fun to be the mark. It sucks. It bites. It blows. And none of those in the good way. Only in the "dang it, this blows" way.
So there you go. People who suck. Not everyone sucks. Some people are very nice. Some people are good. Some people need a reminder that they are good people. And doing something bad doesn't mean you are a bad person. We all f up. I know I have more times than I can count. What matters is how you respond. Are you going to be the bitch who doesn't let someone in and won't apologize or are you going to be the person who says "I fucked up and need to make this right?" I choose the second option.
WTF is up with people? I seriously want to go kick someone's ass. Not "ha ha that was a funny high school girl fight." I mean actually kick someone's ass. And the ass of said person is large enough that I would try to kick it out the other side. I mean, douchebag's like this don't have male genitalia so its not like I would ruin something. But, before I get there, a few other things that bother me.
If you own a car, and you have a freaking driver's license, why don't you learn how to drive? Sure, we all get in accidents. I understand. In fact, it is what helps me pay the bills. So, I am not anti-accident. Except when it comes to me.
I am driving tonight and there is an accident in the lane I am in. The cars are stopped. Everyone sees this. Everyone in the other lane lets cars in. I am the next car in my lane. My turn signal has been on for some time. I am in a big Expedition with my lights on. The only person who couldn't see me should have been the blind guy walking down the sidewalk. No, really, there was a blind guy walking down the sidewalk. But the dweeb in the car in the right lane continues to come fast and honks at me. Fine, I dont want to crash my car into his POS car. (Go find the prior post with the link to Adam Sandler. I am not in the mood to find it again.) Then this old lady comes driving down the road and does the same thing. Finally, the nice guy behind lets me in.
I drive up to the old woman. I honk at her and she puts her hands up like she doesn't know what I am talking about. Really, lady? You didnt see me get behind you after you refused to freaking let me in? Do I have "IDIOT" written across my forehead? You know you were a bitch and I know you were a bitch. In a civilized society, you would apologize for being a bitch. I would smile and wave and still think you are a bitch, but at least a bitch who apologized. You would go from a zero in my book to like a 4. An apology means a lot.
I had every intention of going up to the guy in the car. But, that dumbass ran the red light at the next intersection. Look, buddy, I know you clearly have vision problems since you couldn't see my car. I know you clearly don't care about your POS car because the guys in that gum commercial (Big Red, maybe) could pick up your car and move it and you clearly didn't care if I ran it over. I know you don't care about what happens to you since you were fine with letting me smush you like a monster truck runs over one of those flattened junkers. But, running a red light? Really? You think that is a good idea? How about the innocent folks who you could have injured or killed because you are in a rush to get to your Losers Anonymous class? Or maybe you were on your way to "I have a bad hair piece and women won't talk to me" club? I don't know and I don't care. I just know that you are a hazard and should never be on the road.
Then there are people who just don't get it. Look, if you don't like how I am doing something, tell me. Its not that hard. Dont pretend its not a problem and then drop it on me at the last minute. I know I am not perfect. These days I am pretty fucking far from perfect. I saw perfect once from two light years away. That is the closest I have gotten. And last month, it moved to four light years away. And there was a black hole between me and perfect. But, give me a break. A little warning before you drop a bomb on someone, especially a friend, would be nice. Is that really asking for too much?
But beyond those groups of people (oh and dude who cannot drive, you better stay off the roads near my house because I am pretty sure one day I will see your picture in the paper with your car in a house and I do not mean the garage), there are bigger a-holes. These are the greedy son-of-a-bitch bleep-sucking m-f'ing bastards whose ass I would like to kick. No, wait, whose asses I would like to kick. Multiple folks in this group. I can think of at least 6.
Look, if you are greedy and want to scam folks, fine. Move to your own private island and scam yourselves. After all, its the only action you will be getting. But don't scam me. And really dont scam innocent folks. Sure, I know con men go back a long way. I like reading books about them. But don't do it. Go try to hustle at pool or basketball. Oh wait, you dumbasses are too old and too pathetic to be able to play a real sport like that. You just think you can go ahead and rip people off. Sure, maybe you got away with it for a while. But you always get caught. Always. And the punishment is always bad.
A word to the wise: if you are in a group of people and you cannot figure out who the mark is in a group, it is probably you. And yes, this applies to me as well. I should have bleeping remembered it. Sometimes we get too cocky and too caught up to realize we are the mark. And it sucks when you finally figure it out, especially when you get stuck with consequences because of it. It fucking sucks and it pisses me off. We have to take responsibility for our actions, but when you have been lied to and played, it doesn't make you feel any better taking responsibility. It does create a strong desire to go pummel someone. No, not just anyone. Thankfully, I would never actually do it because one of my four or five friends (that is total) would talk me out of it.
I know I ain't that smart. Of course, I was recently told I am not as smart as I think I am. Since I currently think of myself as having an IQ of about 70, I think that is impossible. Sure, I can put together words and talk off the cuff. But don't get the ability to talk confused with being smart. I have seen a lot of smart people who can't put together a sentence. And I know a lot of dumb asses who talk so much you would think they were getting paid by the letter. But even when you aren't that smart, it is no fun to be the mark. It sucks. It bites. It blows. And none of those in the good way. Only in the "dang it, this blows" way.
So there you go. People who suck. Not everyone sucks. Some people are very nice. Some people are good. Some people need a reminder that they are good people. And doing something bad doesn't mean you are a bad person. We all f up. I know I have more times than I can count. What matters is how you respond. Are you going to be the bitch who doesn't let someone in and won't apologize or are you going to be the person who says "I fucked up and need to make this right?" I choose the second option.
Monday, May 17, 2010
School Libraries
Okay, lets be clear: I am not a big library guy. I think the last time I was in a library Ronald Reagan was acting. For my younger readers, Ronald Reagan was an actor before he became President. Wait, he was Governor of California before he became President. And he was an actor before he became Governor. Of course, the difference between Reagan and the current California governor, also a former actor, is that Reagan could act. Oh, and he could lead. But that is a whole different discussion. (And, no, don't post your cheap shots at a dead guy on my blog. I won't publish them! Show some respect for the dead, unless its one of my very funny White Gloved dead guy references.)
Anyway, I don't frequent the libraries. I know where the library is. Its that big building in town with a lot of books. Actually, in my town, it is a big building with a lot of books that had to be delayed because the 2nd story couldn't hold all of the books. Nice engineering. There also happen to be libraries at my kids' school. And I think at most schools. Although, I am pretty sure most kids at an elementary school call it a "lie-berry" and not a "library."
As you know, we have budget problems in this state. Our elected leaders have had to make decisions. You know, confirm a Lt. Governor, a job that pays six figures a year and does nothing, or give more money to our kids. The elected leaders, of course, confirmed a Lt. Governor. Nice. But, our budget problems are bigger than that. We have to make cuts in education. I know teachers are going to lose their jobs. The teachers union agreed to a couple of furlough days to save some jobs. The district is cutting stuff left and right. And left. Then more to the right. Then to the left, to the left, to the left. (Come on, you know you are picturing Beyonce as you read that.)
But then we get to the libraries. Did you know that libraries at schools have unionized jobs? Isn't that a bit like lawyers working for the state unionizing? Oh wait, they already have a union. Sorry. The librarians are part of the "Damn it, do it our way" Union - Local 666. Mess with them and you end up under Giants Stadium in a barrel. Don't believe me? The Teamsters didn't take out Hoffa - the librarians did!
So, the librarians are being cut. I feel bad. Really, I do. I don't like to see people lose their jobs. It is bad for them. It is bad for the economy. It is bad for my kids. I get that. But, sometimes, when life gives you lemons, make lemonheads, you know that delicious candy. In this case, the librarians decided to ignore Peter, Paul and Mary and they found out the fruit of the lemon tree is impossible to eat!
The librarian union decided that if they couldn't work in the library, than dang it, no one could. No teachers. No administrators. No parents. No volunteers. No no-one, dang it. Why, the kids are much better off with no library than a library with volunteers, after all. I mean, do we really want kids learning the Dewey Decimal system? Do we really want them to read books, explore the world and learn about new things? Of course not. Next maybe the librarians will decide to have a book burning day!
I know, it is in their contract. The district bargained for it. Well, first, lets start with the fact that school board officials routinely vote for things without actually understanding what it is. They have no impulse control. Second, the union could waive a clause in the contract. It is possible. Heck, even Donald Fehr, the dweeb who runs the MLB players union, waived a provision or two in their BS contract. But, not the librarians. Nope, dang it. They aren't waiving anything, although one wonders if librarians get their jobs back, if they may be waving the black flag - as in the roach motel. (Roaches check in, but they don't check out.) (And no, I didn't have to look up that slogan!)
Memo to the union: if you want parents to feel for you, you need to throw us a bone once in a while. How about you let us volunteer to keep the libraries open so our students can use it. I promise you this - if you don't give on this issue, I will never, ever, ever offer you any support. I know its not a rank and file issue, but a problem with union leadership. By the way, union leadership ranks up there with Aunt Jemima Light. It is just not possible.
So union leadership: how about you remember the purpose of your members? Kids. Kids. Kids. You need to help the kids. Helping the kids means you let parents volunteer. If you are too clueless to get that, then you need to be fired. Now. Jackasses.
Anyway, I don't frequent the libraries. I know where the library is. Its that big building in town with a lot of books. Actually, in my town, it is a big building with a lot of books that had to be delayed because the 2nd story couldn't hold all of the books. Nice engineering. There also happen to be libraries at my kids' school. And I think at most schools. Although, I am pretty sure most kids at an elementary school call it a "lie-berry" and not a "library."
As you know, we have budget problems in this state. Our elected leaders have had to make decisions. You know, confirm a Lt. Governor, a job that pays six figures a year and does nothing, or give more money to our kids. The elected leaders, of course, confirmed a Lt. Governor. Nice. But, our budget problems are bigger than that. We have to make cuts in education. I know teachers are going to lose their jobs. The teachers union agreed to a couple of furlough days to save some jobs. The district is cutting stuff left and right. And left. Then more to the right. Then to the left, to the left, to the left. (Come on, you know you are picturing Beyonce as you read that.)
But then we get to the libraries. Did you know that libraries at schools have unionized jobs? Isn't that a bit like lawyers working for the state unionizing? Oh wait, they already have a union. Sorry. The librarians are part of the "Damn it, do it our way" Union - Local 666. Mess with them and you end up under Giants Stadium in a barrel. Don't believe me? The Teamsters didn't take out Hoffa - the librarians did!
So, the librarians are being cut. I feel bad. Really, I do. I don't like to see people lose their jobs. It is bad for them. It is bad for the economy. It is bad for my kids. I get that. But, sometimes, when life gives you lemons, make lemonheads, you know that delicious candy. In this case, the librarians decided to ignore Peter, Paul and Mary and they found out the fruit of the lemon tree is impossible to eat!
The librarian union decided that if they couldn't work in the library, than dang it, no one could. No teachers. No administrators. No parents. No volunteers. No no-one, dang it. Why, the kids are much better off with no library than a library with volunteers, after all. I mean, do we really want kids learning the Dewey Decimal system? Do we really want them to read books, explore the world and learn about new things? Of course not. Next maybe the librarians will decide to have a book burning day!
I know, it is in their contract. The district bargained for it. Well, first, lets start with the fact that school board officials routinely vote for things without actually understanding what it is. They have no impulse control. Second, the union could waive a clause in the contract. It is possible. Heck, even Donald Fehr, the dweeb who runs the MLB players union, waived a provision or two in their BS contract. But, not the librarians. Nope, dang it. They aren't waiving anything, although one wonders if librarians get their jobs back, if they may be waving the black flag - as in the roach motel. (Roaches check in, but they don't check out.) (And no, I didn't have to look up that slogan!)
Memo to the union: if you want parents to feel for you, you need to throw us a bone once in a while. How about you let us volunteer to keep the libraries open so our students can use it. I promise you this - if you don't give on this issue, I will never, ever, ever offer you any support. I know its not a rank and file issue, but a problem with union leadership. By the way, union leadership ranks up there with Aunt Jemima Light. It is just not possible.
So union leadership: how about you remember the purpose of your members? Kids. Kids. Kids. You need to help the kids. Helping the kids means you let parents volunteer. If you are too clueless to get that, then you need to be fired. Now. Jackasses.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Its Frickin Fast Food
I don't know about the rest of you, but once in a while I like me some good old fashioned fast food. I want two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onion on a sesame seed bun. I want some Of The Taco fries. Man, those are good. I do not, repeat, NOT, want that crazy King guy. Have you seen the newest commercial? He is running through an office breaking windows to give someone food. WTF? Seriously. Dude looks like Chester. Yes, I mean Chester the Molester. He is one scary looking big headed made up dude. Seriously, the King makes Jack look like a normal person. I expect to see the King on some Discovery Health show: "Really tall, scary looking, big headed people."
Anyway, tonight we hit the KFC. You know, this used to be called Kentucky Fried Chicken. Well, we have the KFC/A&W. I like the A&W. I am a big root beer fan. Root beer is good. Very, very good. Anyway, so they changed the name from Kentucky Fried Chicken to KFC to apparently appear healthier. Great. Good for them. Healthy is good. I appreciate a little good health once in a while. An apple a year keeps the doctor with fear. (Okay, not that funny, but its late and I am tired and still hungry.) But, this place was ridiculous tonight.
First, lets be clear. They call themselves quick serve restaurants. I call it fast food. The emphasis is on fast, not food. I like food. But if I wanted slow food, I would go to a sit down restaurant. You know, a place with lots of options, a waiter, tables, chairs and a price over $3.99 for a full meal. I want my food fast. Hence, the name fast food.
Second, I want what you have on your limited menu. Let's be honest about this: KFC has about 3 choices. Sure, I can get my chicken on a plate or in a sandwich, but its the same chicken. They throw it on mashed potatoes and call it a bowl. But its all just chicken. You either get it fried or you get it grilled. It is KFC after all. This one has burgers too, since it is also an A&W. But that limits it to about 5 choices. Its just a matter of how it is served. But it is still all the same.
So, tonight we went to get dinner. The misses wanted grilled chicken. Lets get a grilled chicken wrap. Okay. Easy enough. Mashed potatoes. Done with her. Um, we have a problem. They don't have grilled chicken. Huh? Doesn't that cut the menu in half. They have nothing with grilled chicken. Um, so we get a pot pie. Fine. I want some fancy box they have. Sure. It comes with grilled chicken. They have grilled chicken for that, but apparently they cannot put it in a wrap. Don't they have knives? Can't they cut the chicken up. Its KF CHICKEN! They do not have chicken? WTF?
Fine. So we finish ordering. We then go up and pay. She takes my money. Then she says "It is going to be 4 minutes. Is that okay?" Um, what the heck am I supposed to say now? No? You have my money, but it's not okay now. Seriously? Fine, I will wait. Oh, I need to go park? Sure. I am such a nice guy. I will go park.
2 minutes go by. 3 minutes. 4 minutes. 5 minutes. 6 minutes. This is ridiculous. I go in. Waiting, waiting, waiting.............finally someone comes up to the counter. Yes, you can help me. I placed an order and would like it. They go check. Oh, they are still working on it. Apparently the food was cooked - no one could put it in a box. Really? A box? It is not rocket science. I am pretty sure a 15 year old pimply kid with braces, greasy hair and bad BO can put the food in a box. How freaking hard can it be?
So finally they give me my food. Um, memo to KFC: It is fast chicken. Get some more chicken and make it fast. Otherwise, I have absolutely no reason to eat your food - ever. I could microwave a chicken breast and have it be better than waiting for bad chicken from people who can't put it in a box!
Anyway, tonight we hit the KFC. You know, this used to be called Kentucky Fried Chicken. Well, we have the KFC/A&W. I like the A&W. I am a big root beer fan. Root beer is good. Very, very good. Anyway, so they changed the name from Kentucky Fried Chicken to KFC to apparently appear healthier. Great. Good for them. Healthy is good. I appreciate a little good health once in a while. An apple a year keeps the doctor with fear. (Okay, not that funny, but its late and I am tired and still hungry.) But, this place was ridiculous tonight.
First, lets be clear. They call themselves quick serve restaurants. I call it fast food. The emphasis is on fast, not food. I like food. But if I wanted slow food, I would go to a sit down restaurant. You know, a place with lots of options, a waiter, tables, chairs and a price over $3.99 for a full meal. I want my food fast. Hence, the name fast food.
Second, I want what you have on your limited menu. Let's be honest about this: KFC has about 3 choices. Sure, I can get my chicken on a plate or in a sandwich, but its the same chicken. They throw it on mashed potatoes and call it a bowl. But its all just chicken. You either get it fried or you get it grilled. It is KFC after all. This one has burgers too, since it is also an A&W. But that limits it to about 5 choices. Its just a matter of how it is served. But it is still all the same.
So, tonight we went to get dinner. The misses wanted grilled chicken. Lets get a grilled chicken wrap. Okay. Easy enough. Mashed potatoes. Done with her. Um, we have a problem. They don't have grilled chicken. Huh? Doesn't that cut the menu in half. They have nothing with grilled chicken. Um, so we get a pot pie. Fine. I want some fancy box they have. Sure. It comes with grilled chicken. They have grilled chicken for that, but apparently they cannot put it in a wrap. Don't they have knives? Can't they cut the chicken up. Its KF CHICKEN! They do not have chicken? WTF?
Fine. So we finish ordering. We then go up and pay. She takes my money. Then she says "It is going to be 4 minutes. Is that okay?" Um, what the heck am I supposed to say now? No? You have my money, but it's not okay now. Seriously? Fine, I will wait. Oh, I need to go park? Sure. I am such a nice guy. I will go park.
2 minutes go by. 3 minutes. 4 minutes. 5 minutes. 6 minutes. This is ridiculous. I go in. Waiting, waiting, waiting.............finally someone comes up to the counter. Yes, you can help me. I placed an order and would like it. They go check. Oh, they are still working on it. Apparently the food was cooked - no one could put it in a box. Really? A box? It is not rocket science. I am pretty sure a 15 year old pimply kid with braces, greasy hair and bad BO can put the food in a box. How freaking hard can it be?
So finally they give me my food. Um, memo to KFC: It is fast chicken. Get some more chicken and make it fast. Otherwise, I have absolutely no reason to eat your food - ever. I could microwave a chicken breast and have it be better than waiting for bad chicken from people who can't put it in a box!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
What kind of parent are you?
So, what kind of parent are you? No, I don't mean a good parent or a bad parent. That is easy to figure out. The freaks who put their kids on television shows on TLC or Discovery Health or something like that - bad parents. If your last name is Gosselin and you were on tv - bad parent. If your kid fell into the river of chocolate - bad parent. (Oh, come on, Willy Wonka, get it? The original not this Johnny Depp nonsense. Sheesh!) If your kid grows up to win the Nobel Prize - good parent. If your kid finds a cure for cancer - good parent. If you think teaching your baby to read with some piece of crap infomercial product - bad parent.
Sorry, that was kind of a long tangent. Really, I don't mean good parent or bad parent. I mean, what kind of parent are you? Apparently, this is important. To whom, I do not know. Well, it seems important to people who have word counts to meet. Yes, I mean you Mr. Newspaper reporter. Okay, so enough. What am I talking about? The Chico Press-Enterprise or whatever they call that ridiculous newspaper up in the town that used to be known for having America's #1 party school and the Sacramento Bee both apparently think its important to identify parents as either adoptive or biological.
No, wait. That is not true. They think its important to identify when people are adoptive parents. Repeatedly. As if it matters to someone. I don't recall much about writing a newspaper article, and I have never actually written a newspaper article, but I believe that they are supposed to include facts that are relevant. So, the name of the mass murderer is probably relevant. The location of a bank robbery is probably relevant. The fact that Senator Calderon failed to report donations from the insurance industry when he was the chairman of the insurance committee is definitely relevant.
The fact that Billy and Susie Homemaker adopted little Sally, who they are accused of beating, is irrelevant. Suddenly, it seems that how you ended up with a child is some indication of how you parent. There is a story in the Sacramento Bee which was apparently reprinted from the Chico Screw-Up Enterprise that starts as follows: "Police say that a 7 year old girl died Saturday after being beaten by her adoptive parents....."
Last time I checked, I didn't see a story that started: "Bristol Palin, biological daughter of Sarah Palin, had a child out of wedlock with some dweeb." (Seriously, if you remember the guy's name, you need help. Okay, I need help since its Levi Johnson.) Or how about: "Crazy Michael Savage, who can't complete a thought because of his experiment with herbs (hey, he claims to be a world famous herbal expert), the biological son of an immigrant, still has no clue about autism and families dealing with autistic children." Am I right? I mean, I didn't read last summer: "Michael Jackson, the biological child of a freakish, scary father, died after having 152 plastic surgeries, having his nose replaced with a clip and turning his skin from black in to bright white like the kid who's car had smashed so hard." (Google it if you don't get the lyrical reference. Yes, it is funny. Actually, go listen to the song. Heck, buy the CD from which the song comes from.)
Yet, somehow, when a child is adopted it is part of the story. Its like if something bad happens, the adoption must be important. The fact that Lee Harvey Oswald came out of his mother's birth canal is never reported. But the fact that these douches in Paradise adopted the child and then beat her seems to be important. Its not.
News flash: I have adopted several children. I also have a biological child. Now back to our rant.
I am not the adoptive parent of my children. Just like I am not the biological parent of my biological child. I am a parent. A father. A dad. Daddy. I may have adopted my children, but I am not an adoptive parent. It is offensive. Why not describe me as the white parent? How about the bald parent? How about if I start describing biological parents like this: Ron and Martha are the people who came out of the birth canal of Sara and James. Or maybe I can do it this way: Ron and Martha came out the woo-hoo of Sara after James had been in there.
Maybe we can go farther. Children who are born after in vitro can be those test tube babies. Or maybe those petrie dish children. You could be William and Mary, the parents of petrie dish children. Or maybe we can get more graphic? Anyone want to bet whether I can get more graphic?
And while I am picking on the fine folks in Michael Phelps favorite California city, lets be clear this is not just for newspaper folks. It is also for anyone else. School districts? I am not an adoptive parent and even if my child is adopted, it doesn't matter when you don't provide services to my kid. Doctors? Sure, it is relevant for medical history, but after that it doesn't matter.
Want to bet? Just go ask the piece of poo attorney who made the mistake of making a comment about me while my son, who happens to be adopted, was in the hospital. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off white guy who has the mouth of a sailor and the venom of me. Of course, he followed this up by also commenting about the time when my wife had a baby. That would be my biological child. Again, hell hath no fury like a pissed off white guy who has the mouth of a sailor and the venom of me. Notice its the same? That is kind of the point.
My kids are my kids. My family is my family. I don't care if they are adopted, by birth, from a test tube, fell off the moon, dropped out of a spaceship or were found in a barn. They are my kids and how we became a family is irrelevant, you insensitive, uninformed, Neanderthal. Go get a freaking clue about life and than talk to me about families and how they are formed. Until then, take your piece of crap, poorly written, uninformative article and shove it where the sun don't shine, which by the way, could be the place your next child comes out of!
Sorry, that was kind of a long tangent. Really, I don't mean good parent or bad parent. I mean, what kind of parent are you? Apparently, this is important. To whom, I do not know. Well, it seems important to people who have word counts to meet. Yes, I mean you Mr. Newspaper reporter. Okay, so enough. What am I talking about? The Chico Press-Enterprise or whatever they call that ridiculous newspaper up in the town that used to be known for having America's #1 party school and the Sacramento Bee both apparently think its important to identify parents as either adoptive or biological.
No, wait. That is not true. They think its important to identify when people are adoptive parents. Repeatedly. As if it matters to someone. I don't recall much about writing a newspaper article, and I have never actually written a newspaper article, but I believe that they are supposed to include facts that are relevant. So, the name of the mass murderer is probably relevant. The location of a bank robbery is probably relevant. The fact that Senator Calderon failed to report donations from the insurance industry when he was the chairman of the insurance committee is definitely relevant.
The fact that Billy and Susie Homemaker adopted little Sally, who they are accused of beating, is irrelevant. Suddenly, it seems that how you ended up with a child is some indication of how you parent. There is a story in the Sacramento Bee which was apparently reprinted from the Chico Screw-Up Enterprise that starts as follows: "Police say that a 7 year old girl died Saturday after being beaten by her adoptive parents....."
Last time I checked, I didn't see a story that started: "Bristol Palin, biological daughter of Sarah Palin, had a child out of wedlock with some dweeb." (Seriously, if you remember the guy's name, you need help. Okay, I need help since its Levi Johnson.) Or how about: "Crazy Michael Savage, who can't complete a thought because of his experiment with herbs (hey, he claims to be a world famous herbal expert), the biological son of an immigrant, still has no clue about autism and families dealing with autistic children." Am I right? I mean, I didn't read last summer: "Michael Jackson, the biological child of a freakish, scary father, died after having 152 plastic surgeries, having his nose replaced with a clip and turning his skin from black in to bright white like the kid who's car had smashed so hard." (Google it if you don't get the lyrical reference. Yes, it is funny. Actually, go listen to the song. Heck, buy the CD from which the song comes from.)
Yet, somehow, when a child is adopted it is part of the story. Its like if something bad happens, the adoption must be important. The fact that Lee Harvey Oswald came out of his mother's birth canal is never reported. But the fact that these douches in Paradise adopted the child and then beat her seems to be important. Its not.
News flash: I have adopted several children. I also have a biological child. Now back to our rant.
I am not the adoptive parent of my children. Just like I am not the biological parent of my biological child. I am a parent. A father. A dad. Daddy. I may have adopted my children, but I am not an adoptive parent. It is offensive. Why not describe me as the white parent? How about the bald parent? How about if I start describing biological parents like this: Ron and Martha are the people who came out of the birth canal of Sara and James. Or maybe I can do it this way: Ron and Martha came out the woo-hoo of Sara after James had been in there.
Maybe we can go farther. Children who are born after in vitro can be those test tube babies. Or maybe those petrie dish children. You could be William and Mary, the parents of petrie dish children. Or maybe we can get more graphic? Anyone want to bet whether I can get more graphic?
And while I am picking on the fine folks in Michael Phelps favorite California city, lets be clear this is not just for newspaper folks. It is also for anyone else. School districts? I am not an adoptive parent and even if my child is adopted, it doesn't matter when you don't provide services to my kid. Doctors? Sure, it is relevant for medical history, but after that it doesn't matter.
Want to bet? Just go ask the piece of poo attorney who made the mistake of making a comment about me while my son, who happens to be adopted, was in the hospital. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off white guy who has the mouth of a sailor and the venom of me. Of course, he followed this up by also commenting about the time when my wife had a baby. That would be my biological child. Again, hell hath no fury like a pissed off white guy who has the mouth of a sailor and the venom of me. Notice its the same? That is kind of the point.
My kids are my kids. My family is my family. I don't care if they are adopted, by birth, from a test tube, fell off the moon, dropped out of a spaceship or were found in a barn. They are my kids and how we became a family is irrelevant, you insensitive, uninformed, Neanderthal. Go get a freaking clue about life and than talk to me about families and how they are formed. Until then, take your piece of crap, poorly written, uninformative article and shove it where the sun don't shine, which by the way, could be the place your next child comes out of!
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